Black Ops: Titan
by Rogue Knight1
Summary: This story was written and posted with the full permission of John Westcott, author of Black Ops. It's a response to a challenge in which Kane is to be brought into contact with some DC character.


This story is set prior to the events in "Black Ops," shortly after   
Kane first went rogue.  
  
The Titan  
  
The world's greatest man reclined in the velvet  
cushioning of the chair. Surrounding him were  
furnishings of incredible splendor. From the thick  
carpet on the floor, to the chandelier hanging from  
the vaulted sceiling, and everywhere between, the room  
was palatial. Mahogany shelves covered the walls,  
filled with rare and wonderful manuscripts and strange  
artifacts, and suits of knightly aroms stood like  
sentinels at intervals, antique weapons hung above  
them. The furniture was incredibly expensive, and  
magnificently, almost obcenely comfortable.  
  
It all made the man glad that he'd killed the previous  
owner.  
  
The very late, possibly lamented Sen. Ralph Nugrazzi  
of New Jersey had possessed great wealth and a lovely  
mansion that was very far away from the rest of the  
world. He had also been in the wrong place at the  
wrong time. The senator was one of the few men in  
what was laughingly called "the government of the  
United States" to know about the Darwin Experiment.   
Applied genetic engineering at it's height. The  
creation of a perfect human who could serve as the  
ultimate covert warrior.  
  
It had all gone wrong, of course, and the senator,  
touring the facility at the wrong time, had fled when  
the Darwin Experiment had gotten loose. Fled in his  
private helicopter, fleeing towards this private  
retreat. He never knew about the stowaway on board  
until after he had landed and gone to bed that night.  
  
Now the world's greatest man, the Darwin Experiment,  
lived alone in the palace, reading the books in the  
library, watching telivision, surfing the internet,  
drinking in knowledge like a sponge while he pondered  
his next move. He thought he had the groundwork for  
his plan laid out now. It began with the perfectly  
logical premise that he was the pinnacle of human  
evolution. That meant the rest of the human race was  
obsolete.  
  
The book he read was titled "The Bible Code," and the  
world's greatest man was fascinated by it. He thought  
that if he knew Hebrew, and had a copy of the Torah,  
he might be able to make very good use of this  
knowledge. In fact--  
  
There was a loud crash as the north window imploded,  
and a costumed figure with a Desert Eagle .50 caliber  
magnum semi-automatic rolled across the floor, gun  
trained on the Darwin man's forehead.  
  
"So you're Judas." The gun had a laser sight built  
into the barrel, and a telescopic sight mounted above  
it. The world's greatest man could feel the tiny do  
of light above and between his eyes, and smiled.  
  
"Is that what they now call me? 'Judas?' I must  
admit, it is better than 'the Darwin experiment' by  
far. But it still lacks a certain something. You  
must be the one called Deathstroke." Judas stood,  
slowly. The laser-dot didn't move an inch from it's  
position on his forehead.  
  
"So you've heard of me."  
  
Judas smiled. "Of course. You are the world's  
greatest assassin. The best of the best. I knew that  
you would be the first one they'd send for me. Are  
your orders to kill me, or capture?"  
  
"They want you alive, but they'll take you any way  
they can."  
  
"Splendid! But this game has gone on long enough.   
Let us move on to the next phase."  
  
Deathstroke didn't move visibly, but somehow he seemed  
suddenly to be even more lethal than before. "Don't  
move. Don't even breathe. Even you'd have trouble if  
one of these rounds went through your head."  
  
"Quite so. However, I have anticipated your arrival,  
and the manner in which you made it. I have been  
prepared for some time now." Judas did move then,  
simutaneously twisting his body aside and throwing the  
book in his hand. Deathstroke fired twice, but only  
grazed the side of Judas' head. Then the genetically  
altered titan siezed the gun, and twisted it's heavy  
barrel as if it were a pipe-cleaner, casting it aside  
with one hand while casually tapping Deathstroke's  
chin with the other.  
  
******  
  
"Awake, mercenary?" Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the  
Terminator, opened his eyes. He was still in the  
library, but was now within a cage, stripped of  
clothing and weapons. On the other side of the bars  
and mesh stood Judas, wearing only a loincloth.  
  
"It's time for a little game, Mr. Wilson. I will  
release you, and you will take one of these fine  
weapons on the wall, and I shall take another. If you  
win, you may kill me, or deliver me to my creators."  
  
"And if you win?" Wilson's voice was raspy, his  
throat dry.  
  
Judas smiled. "You shall see. Now come, and let us  
face each other as warriors!" The artificially created fighting man   
pressed a button on a control panel, and the side of the cage behind   
Deathstroke slammed down. He wheeled, and ran out of the cage,   
headed for the weapons rack on the wall. He snatched up a katana,   
ancient steel razor-sharp and diamond-hard, and turned to face his   
nemesis.  
  
Judas stood before him, muscular body gleaming in the light of the   
chandelier. In his huge right hand he held a medieval broadsword, in   
his left, a remote control. He pushed a button, and the powerful   
sound of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony filled the room.  
  
Deathstroke entered Hasso no Kamae, the kendo stance that left the   
sword held vertically next to his face, and stood waiting for the man-  
shaped being before him to make a move. Judas obliged, lunging   
forward with a sweeping cut along a low plane. Deathstroke lowered   
his guard to parry, and Judas spun his heavy sword with incredible   
speed and dexterity, bringing the double-edged weapon of destruction   
down in a purely vertical cut that looked like it could split the   
mercenary in two. Deathstroke threw himslef backwards, however, and   
Judas' blade hissed through empty air.  
  
Now it was time to go on the offensive. Deathstroke stepped back in,   
closing the distance he had opened, and launched two cuts in quick   
succession, both high vertical head blows. Judas caught both of them   
with his own sword, and riposted with a thrust at Deathstroke's   
chest, which was parried a hair too late. A red line opened up on   
the soldier's body that stretched from the solar plexus to below the   
left nipple. A flesh wound.  
  
Deathstroke tried to open Judas' belly, recovered from the expected   
parry, and struck again, this time feinting for the right wrist and   
cutting high at the shoulder. Now it was the other man's turn to   
bleed as a deep gash was opened along the right biceps.  
  
The genetically engineered warrior disengaged, stepped back, and   
grinned. "Very good, Mr. Wilson. Very good indeed. This has been   
great sport. But I am beginning to grow bored with it." Suddenly,   
the huge man plunged forward, cutting again and again, faster than   
Deathstroke could track, let alone parry. Wounds, shallow and   
painful, opened up on his arms, torso, and legs. His sword was sent   
flying out of his grasp, and with a single mighty kick, Judas   
launched Deathstroke backwards to the floor.  
  
The mercenary lay dazed for a time, Judas standing over him with   
sword-tip at his throat. Then the creature spoke.  
  
"Do you know why I insisted upon this little game, Deathstroke? It   
is because I needed to be sure. You see, I believed myself to be a   
superior form of being, the living embodiment of the Nietchze's   
Ubermensch. I felt that it would be only right for me to claim my   
true place as master of this earth, and reduce Homo Sapiens, the   
Untermenschen, to the nothingness that you deserve. But, before I   
could act to fulfill this grand design, I needed to test myself   
against the best that my predecessors had to offer. I had to   
demonstrate to my self that I was indeed worthy. This, I have done."  
  
Judas dropped his sword, struck Deathstroke a sharp blow on a   
pressure point, and tossed the other man back into his cage, which   
was then resealed.  
  
"I shall let you live, Mr. Wilson, for a time. I have no need to   
kill you any earlier than the rest of the species. And I want you to   
deliver a message to my enemies.  
  
"I am no longer their Darwin Experiment, and I am not their Judas.   
Let them instead know me as Kane."  
  
End 


End file.
